


The Night of Broken Glass

by Bhooms23



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Disturbing Themes, F/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Triggers, Violent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 00:48:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29974851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bhooms23/pseuds/Bhooms23
Summary: After years of economic depression causing starvation, poverty, and unemployment, Adolf Hitler revives a devastated Germany through the use of propaganda and modern military techniques. Defeating Poland, Denmark, and Belgium, the ruthless Nazi party has captured and begun occupying a divided France.Hermione Granger, a Jewish citizen of France, is caught in the horrific turmoil of the Holocaust. Biding her time with a false identity, she looses all hope as German military officers are stationed throughout Northern and Western France, one- to her great contempt- stationed under the very same roof.She struggles to hide her secret in a world of warring nations, but what will happen when the German officer figures out who she really is?A real world, slow burn dramione fanfic. Characters belong to JK Rowling.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Kudos: 2





	The Night of Broken Glass

**Author's Note:**

> *This story is not meant to romanticize the vile acts of the Nazi party in any way, nor does it condone their actions. I have tried to write it as historically accurate as possible, but do not use this as a reliable depiction. Things may seem bad in the beginning, but remember, you don't have all the information yet. This story contains a lot of dark themes, as the Holocaust was no simple matter. I will try to include triggers, but please be warned before reading.*

Hermione stared up at the dark wooden ceiling, waiting for sleep to consume her anxious mind. Even through the thick walls of the house, she could hear sirens wailing from outside, sometimes loud enough to cover the harsh pang of a rouge shot being fired.

She could feel her heart pounding, like it did every night before curfew. _This is it. They're going to find me._

She'd evaded them for quite some time now, almost a year since her parents had been deported to a "more satisfactory location". If she focused hard enough, drowning out the soft yells of patrolling officers, she could see them in the train again, shining red under a burning sun. She could almost feel the sting of salty tears tumbling down her cheeks as the train rolled away, leaving her alone.

They'd told her to run. To hide in Ginny's house until things smoothed over. The air around grew colder, goosebumps forming on the skin uncovered by her woolen blanket. She wondered where they were now.

Hermione had heard awful things about what they did to people like her. Unspeakable things. Maybe her parents had been let out easy with a simple shot to the chest, or possibly taken out by disease. Better than the alternative.

The yellow stars had been humiliating enough, and when people thought things couldn't get worse, thousands were laid off from their jobs. Hermione should have known since the beginning, on November 9, 1938, when shards of opaque glass from shops, houses, and temples layered the streets of Germany like fine flakes of snow. Shining white under the moonlight, and scarlet with the blood of their efforts.

But never in the last 23 years of her life would she have expected the world to become what it was now. How could she, when the idea was so foreign it sounded crazy. Nightmarish.

Germany was supposed to abide by the terms of The Treaty of Versailles, after the First World War. Hitler had made a pact with France, the UK, and Italy to end expansion after Czechoslovakia, as agreed upon at Munich. The lie had been so obviously deceitful, she was surprised they'd actually believed him.

Poland. Denmark. Norway. Belgium. They were never part of the deal. And France? No. He couldn't have done that all by himself. But he did.

Nazi Germany had taken over much of the European continent, spreading their ani-Semitic hatred and bullshit across several nations. And now France, captured and defeated by the _Wehrmacht_ , was quickly being occupied by German soldiers. The Vichy government, Germany's little puppet, had taken control and established laws like the _Statut des Juifs_ , decreeing the strict "definition" and exclusion of people like herself.

Hermione didn't look much like she used to before the war. Her chestnut hair had grown longer, more unruly and springy, but lacking it's natural shine. Her bones protruded from her elbows and jaw, faint circles staining the skin beneath her dark brown eyes. Makeup had grown scarce a few months back, so there was nothing to cover her chapped lips or paling complexion. But there was only a matter of time before they found out who she was. Before they learnt that her identity was forged and that her papers were false. They'd take her away to one of those concentration camps, the ones rumored to kill hundreds each day.

Hermione sighed, adjusting the blanket around herself and sinking deeper into the creaky bed. She could hear Ginny's soft snoring from the other bedroom, where her hands were probably twisted securely around little James. Harry, Ginny's husband, who was also one of Hermione's closest childhood friends, had been drafted into the war to fight for Germany. Ginny also had several brothers who had met the same fate. Hermione had just started the beginnings of an overdue relationship with one of them- Ron- before he was packing to leave for Belgium. She'd kissed him goodbye and handed over one of her kerchiefs like a silly school girl, thinking he'd be back in a month or two. She hadn't heard from any of them since.

Hermione could feel the fall wind creeping in through small crevices in the oak walls, she wondered where they would get enough wood for the the fireplace after a few months, when the weather turned freezing. That was a problem for another day, she supposed, finally letting her eyelids fall, dragged away by an invisible lull.

Golden rays from an early October sun protruded through the window to her left, bright enough to make Hermione want to tug the blanket over her eyes. She groaned, throwing the cover off herself and moving to the washroom. She and Ginny had agreed to limit their bathing to two or three times a week, seeing as hot water and soap were becoming increasingly difficult to come by. She washed her face with a damp cloth, and then worked to detangle her hair with nimble fingers, twisting it into a low knot.

Hermione grabbed a shawl from the small chest at the foot of her bed before heading downstairs. She found Ginny already in the kitchen, as usual, preparing breakfast. She was boiling water and rummaging around for something in the cabinets when she noticed Hermione walk in.

"Oh Mione, you're up," Ginny smiled, handing her a small cup of warm milk and a slice of bread. Coffee beans and sugar were rare nowadays, milk and flour were slowly trickling out too. "They'll probably have meat today, I think we have enough for fish, or maybe liver," she said, handing Hermione a few coupons. She had faint crinkles around her eyes and mouth, and Hermione was reminded just how young the girl actually was.

Hermione reached out for the tiny slips of paper, one hand still wrapped around her cup, "I'll leave a little early so they don't run out." The lines had been getting longer and longer, people who arrived too late would be sent back empty handed.

Ginny hummed in response, turning back to the boiling pot. Her long orange hair was tied back in a braid, swishing around as she reached for wooden spoons and herbs. It was the same brilliant ochre shade as the rest of her family, resembling Ron's hair the most.

"Is James still sleeping?" Hermione asked, sipping from her cup.

"Yes," Ginny laughed, shaking her head. "He was up all night making a ruckus, he just wouldn't fall asleep."

Hermione grinned, the three year old was a quite a lot to handle for a single mother. He was a mischievous little thing, much like the Harry she knew from her school days. Very stubborn, but lovable nonetheless.

Harry and Ginny had married right after school, having James a year later. They hadn't expected to be separated- especially so early on- but Harry was forced to leave, like most young men, to serve in the ongoing war. Hermione tried to help out in every way possible, taking over the market trips and laborious jobs while Ginny worked in the house and took care of James.

Hermione rested her arms on the kitchen table, her eyes flickering over the empty spot where the radio had been. She used to listen to Franklin Roosevelt's fire side chats, or one of Winston Churchill's speeches, but- unsurprisingly- the radios had been taken away.

She put her cup down and headed for the door, not wanting to be late. Pulling a thin coat on and grabbing the basket sitting by the floor, she turned the knob, a subtle breeze drifting into the house as she stepped outside. There was a large apple tree in their front yard, the fruit red and ripe for picking at this time of season.

"I can pick some of these apples when I get back," Hermione suggested to Ginny, who had walked with her to the front gate, "If there's flour at the market, we might be able to make a small pie." They hadn't had desserts in quite a while, especially the sugary ones.

"Oh yes! James would love that," Ginny exclaimed, her lips turned up in delight. "I'll check Buckbeak for some eggs." Buckbeak, their chicken, provided a generous amount of eggs every week, which they found profit in trading. James had been scolded several times for chasing him with a stick.

Hermione smiled, reaching around to tug the shawl tighter around her shoulders before stepping outside the gates.

"Be careful," Ginny whispered as a parting thought.

Hermione nodded back solemnly, "I will, Gin." She turned and headed down the street to the market, basket swaying below her hips and faded dress swishing in the wind.

As she walked deeper into town, Hermione noticed German officers surveying the streets and walking around, clad in mossy green uniforms, silver buttons glinting under the sun. There seemed to be more of them than last week. She made sure to angle her head down, trying to draw as little attention to herself as possible, simultaneously staring at the pavement while hurrying to get a decent spot at the market.

Posters of ruby reds and bright yellows were posted against the brick walls of buildings, depicting various scenes of the German Fuhrer standing, hands outstretched, before enormous crowds. Nazi flags bellowed from above, a rich crimson and velvety black stark against the pale sky, the swastika glaring angrily at her. _Imposter_ , it seemed to say.

She reached the town square, pointedly ignoring the execution blocks and whipping poles meant for quelling rebels. Hermione was lucky today, she had arrived early enough for the crowd to be relatively small. As she joined the line, the woman in front of her turned back and Hermione was relieved to see a familiar face.

Lavender Brown smiled at her, one of the few people who knew Hermione's true identity. She looked tired, her usual spark somehow diluted. Lavender, along with Ginny, Parvati, and Luna, had gone to Beauxbatons with her.

"Natalia," she said carefully, "how have you been?"

"I've been well, Lavender. Wonderful weather, isn't it?" _Have you heard anything?_

"Yes, quite lovely." She subtlety started to lean in, her voice muffled against her dull scarf. "There are more coming. I have one stationed at my house, an officer named Flint. So does Luna, but I haven't heard from Parv yet."

Hermione looked down, pretending to adjust her sleeves. She nodded softly, looking around to see if anyone had heard them speaking. The line moved up and they shuffled forward.

"They'll leave you alone if you do what they ask. Please don't try anything," Lavender continued, not quite opening her mouth.

Hermione nodded again, staring at her shoes. She didn't know what she would do if forced to live with one. She didn't even know what Lavender meant, but now wasn't really the time for inquiry. All it took was a foot out of line for the _gestapo_ to take them, she couldn't be sure who was listening.

They remained silent for the rest of the wait, and when the two finally reached the front of the line, Lavender traded her coupons for some fish and gave Hermione a knowing look before walking away.

Hermione handed her coupons over to the short, burly lady behind the meat stand, her heart beating rapidly once again. The woman eyed her, sweeping short, stringy strands of hair back into her faded bandana with pudgy fingers. Her chest was held out, as if someone was constantly poking her back. Umbridge, Hermione recalled, the woman was always keen on watching her. _Was she suspicious?_ Hermione received a fish, a small pouch of flour, and a block of cheese, stuffing it into her basket before swiftly turning back around. _Walk slow_ , she told herself, forcing her feet move at a normal pace. Her fingers clenched around the woven basket handle, knuckles turning almost white. She wanted nothing more than to sprint back, but she couldn't risk looking too eager.

She crossed the square, watching officers speak to each other leisurely, while others held small boys who had stolen by their scruffs. Some flirted with young ladies, tipping their caps down and flashing charming smiles.

Hermione hid her frown as she passed the town hall, finally on the street that led to her neighborhood. She tried not to flinch at distant gun shots, and controlled her breathing when someone passed her. The officers didn't seem to notice her much, and she had never been more glad to have what she considered average looks.

It was late noon when she reached home and entered the gates. The house was modest, with two floors, a spacious kitchen, and a cozy living room. There was a small vegetable garden to the right of the footpath leading up to the gates. Wild roses and buttery daffodils were scattered in bunches by the edge of the grass, starting to wilt under decreasing temperature. She paused by the tall apple tree, setting the basket down to shake some of the apples off. Hermione grabbed a stick from the ground to try and steer one of the branches towards her. She reached out on her tippy toes, plucking the apples and tossing it back into the basket.

" _Tante_ Mione!" A high pitched squeal sounded from the door. James ran out, his dark, unkempt hair ruffled around by the breeze. "You're home! _Mère_ makes apple pie!"

Hermione refrained from reminding him to call her by the other name, knowing how confusing it was for little kids to understand those things. She would have to explain again later. She smiled down at him and crouched low, trying to smooth out his messy locks of hair. " _Oui_ ," she said, playfully tapping his nose, "I know it's your favorite."

James giggled, tugging her sleeve and pulling her back into the house. He insisted on carrying the basket himself, trying to show off his strong muscles.

Hermione walked back into the kitchen, letting James place the basket on the table before taking the items out. Ginny came in from the living room, "James, stop touching the cheese!" She swatted his hands away. The boy grinned at Hermione and jumped back, looking pleased with himself. She knew he had a piece in his pocket.

Hermione joined her friend, who had started peeling potatoes and toasting small slices of buttered bread by the stove. Lowering her voice, she said, "I saw Lavender at the market today."

Ginny turned, her fine eyebrows creased together. "Any news?" _Any hope?_

"She told me more of the Nazi officers are being deployed here. They've been stationed in her house. Luna's too."

"You don't think they'll come to our part of town, do you?" Ginny asked. They both knew how dangerous that would be.

"I don't know," Hermione relented, "There were more of them on the streets today. Almost everywhere I looked, swarming the town hall and watching the square."

Ginny's fingers nervously played with the single strand that had fallen out of her braid. "You have the papers right? As long as you have a legal identity, you'll be fine," she nodded to herself and Hermione wasn't sure who she was trying to persuade.

"Gin, I'm not worried about myself," Hermione said honestly, "If things get really bad, I'll leave and find a better place to hide. I won't put you and James in danger."

"Mione, it won't come to that," Ginny placed a hand on her shoulder. "You're not going anywhere, I promised Ron I would take care of you. Besides, I need you here, we're practically sisters."

"Ginny, I-"

"No," Ginny stubbornly cut her off, shaking her head, "We're going to be fine. Help me set the table."

Hermione wanted to argue back, but the girl had already left to find James. She huffed, grabbing the few plates and silverware that they hadn't already sold.

When late evening crept around and they'd finished eating dinner, the three of them huddled in the kitchen, trying to make an apple pie together. Ginny made the dough and helped James knead it into a flat circle while Hermione cut up the tart apples. James had gotten flour all over his face, dusty fingertips staining his clothes.

Hermione laughed nervously as he chased his mother and godmother around the kitchen, waving his hands about like a little lunatic, his green eyes sparkling wickedly. They finally pushed the finished product into the oven and went to the living room to wait. Hermione read _Robin De Bois_ out loud to pass time, with Ginny and James snuggled up on the couch beside her armchair. As the warm aroma drifted in, they returned to the kitchen, excited to indulge on a rare dessert. James' mouth was practically watering at the sight of the steaming, golden pie. Hermione herself hadn't had pie in several months and her own saliva was close to dripping out too.

They were just settling around the kitchen table when a knock sounded at the door.

Ginny froze, sharing a confused look with Hermione before getting up to answer the repetitive thumping. Hermione stilled, her ears straining to listen and muscles tensing in rigid anxiety. She glanced around, realizing that the front door was the only exit, unless she forced herself out the windows. From where she was sitting, Hermione could only hear muffled voices, and then footsteps entering the living room.

"Who is it, _tante_ Mione?" James whispered, fiddling around in his seat. She hushed him, holding a finger to her lips.

After a few minutes, Hermione rose and walked tentatively towards the other room, worried about Ginny. James followed closely behind her, hidden partially behind the flare of her dress and looking rather curious. Hermione walked through the threshold and stopped at the sight in front, a chill crawling up her spine. The air grew thick enough that Hermione felt she could choke on it, she blinked slowly, uncertain on what to do.

The two officers standing before the fireplace turned to watch her, looking foreign in her home. _Imposters_.

"Natalia!" Ginny exclaimed, a forced smile plastered on her face. She hid her slightly shaking hands between the folds of her skirt. "We have company."


End file.
